


Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine.

by Cee693



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Impending Crisis, crisis on infinite earths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21725398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cee693/pseuds/Cee693
Summary: Tumblr request for Barry and Iris spending time together before Crisis.Barry and Iris in their kitchen, slow dancing and drinking wine.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Iris West
Comments: 10
Kudos: 106





	Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine.

**Author's Note:**

> Requested on Tumblr by @allaboutmybucks: Barry and Iris spending time together before impending Crisis. I think I'll make this request a two-parter with the next one being a tiny bit less angsty.

In the end, the true state of their feelings wouldn’t be found in in the grand gestures. It wasn't in the breakfasts that had started overflowing with his favorite foods since he’d returned from Earth-3. It wasn't in the luxurious trips around the world. Trips that had them both ignoring the fact that most of the places they went to were from a list they’d compiled two years ago as an Anniversary Bucket List. 

It wasn't in the proclamations and declarations of undying love. 

It was in the little things. 

It was in the touches, the hand holding that was a bit too tight. A goodbye kiss that was a second too long. It was in Barry’s breath catching when some budget forms arrived on his desk at work. He was supposed to fill in his request for the next fiscal year. Which began December 10th, 2019.

It was in Iris hitting ‘unsubscribe’ after receiving her routine alert from her pharmacy to go in for her next three-month supply of birth control pills. 

It was in Barry getting into the habit of putting on their record player and getting Iris to dance around the kitchen with him while he cooked them dinner. 

It wasn’t something he normally did. They’d danced around their kitchen more times than they could count, but it was usually after dinner or in a spontaneous burst in the day. 

Mostly, because Barry was mindful of keeping his wife away from any open flames or boiling pots.

Iris’s track record in the kitchen was… not great. That’s why Barry tried to always have dinner ready to go after work so there was no chance of her getting involved. 

But, that week, Iris had come home from work and greeted Barry over the blare of the upbeat record spinning and he hurried to kiss her before twirling her in his arms and sliding her into his work space. 

The first time it happened they'd laughed so hard and danced for so long, Iris had to tag in and help him finish cooking so that they could eat before midnight.

The following night, Iris came home to the same sight: Barry happy and singing to music. This time with a bottle of wine chilled and ready for her. Iris kissed him soundly because that glass was exactly what she needed after the day she had.

Unfortunately, their bottle opener was mysteriously vanished so Barry asked her season and baste the roast he had in the oven while he ran out and got a new one.

By the time he returned (suspiciously long for a speedster), dinner was finished and ready to be served.

The next few days were the same and the two of them settled into a nice little routine of cooking and dancing.

Iris didn’t know what brought on Barry’s sudden good mood, but she didn’t question it. She loved seeing Barry like this: all care-free and happy.

Since his trip to Earth-3, Barry took care to carve out time, just the two of them, but she really appreciated that this last week there was no sense of dread in their time together only joy. 

And the fact that he was like this with an apron on, sleeves rolled up his forearms as he snuck her bites of food was also incredibly sexy.

She couldn’t resist one night pressing up against him and kissing him sensually. She meant for it to be a quick kiss, but Barry had her up on the counter in seconds.

“Wait,” she pulled back after several minutes of being carried away. “The food's gonna burn.”

Barry shook his head and kissed her again. “Chicken's still marinating. Trick is to add baking soda and let it sit. It tenderizes the meat." Of course he said that last part with extreme innuendo as he kissed the side of her neck.

She liked it when he talked food. As much as she called him a nerd, anytime he flexed his intelligence, it was a huge turn-on for her. 

She said as much another night when he swayed them in time to Nat King Cole right in front of the oven. Iris mentioned that the warmth coming from it was divine and Barry whispered that the 375° was just about the perfect temperature for anything.

To Barry’s credit, it took her almost two weeks to realize what he was doing. 

And at first it stopped her in her tracks and knocked the air from her lungs.

She’d gotten home from work early and had just texted Barry to let him know when the lightbulb just randomly went off.

She went over the last two weeks of dinnertime in her head and when her suspicion was confirmed she locked herself in her office and cried until the sun went down.

By the time Barry came home, she pulled herself together and dried her eyes, but she resolved to not step foot out her office until tonight’s meal was on the table ready to be eaten.

Iris heard the front door open and close, then the shower run for a few seconds before she heard him back in the kitchen rumbling around.

When Billie Holiday began wafting through the loft, Iris correctly anticipated Barry coming to her. 

He knocked on her door and she sluggishly got up to let him in.

"Hey," Barry greeted happily as he entered her office. He leaned down and kissed her sweetly. "How was your day."

"It was fine," Iris responded delicately. "How was yours?"

“Eh. Long. I missed you. I picked up some chicken and shrimp for alfredo? That sound okay?”

“Sure. That's great thank you.”

"Want to come out?” He asked.

"No."

"We could pop open that bottle of red we got from the Uco Valley. Best in the world."

"No. Sorry, I'm busy,” Iris responded, half-heartedly holding up the first magazine she touched.

Barry deflated a little. “Iris. I haven't seen you all day.”

She sighed and felt a bit bad. "I guess I can work at the dining table."

Iris grabbed her laptop and a notebook and followed Barry out to the living room. She settled at the dining table and let him get to work in the kitchen.

Of course tonight, though, Barry seemed to be having a bit of trouble in the kitchen.

"Damn it," he muttered a third time. Pots clanked and there was a definite sound of something spilling on the floor.

Still, Iris resisted the urge to take pity on him and ask him what was wrong. She knew in reality it was nothing at all.

Barry was a terrible liar, but he always gave valiant performances.

"Hey, I'm sorry,” he called out to her minutes later. “I know you're busy but could you help me grab the cream in the fridge? My hands are full."

If she wasn’t so angry, Iris would have been a little disappointed that that was the best he could come up with. She thinks for that lie to be believable she's supposed to pretend that he's not the fastest man alive.

She sighed and stood up. "How much cream?"

Barry nodded to the ipad on the counter. "Recipe's over there."

Iris scowled a bit and peeked at the tablet before she went to the fridge and checked. "We're all out."

"Oh really?" Barry exclaimed, voice higher than normal. “Darn.”

Iris stifled an eye-roll at the bad acting.

"Well, we could make a substitute for cream. Could you grab some milk and some butter? Just measure out a fourth of butter and three-

Iris huffed in frustration and slammed the fridge door. 

"-I know what you're doing, so just stop it," she demanded.

Barry blinked and halted his chopping. "What?"

"I know what you've been doing, Barry," she repeated. "Putting out music and wine and finding any way to pull me into the kitchen. Pretending that you can't literally do all of this by yourself in seconds. Whispering off little culinary facts in passing."

"You've been teaching me how to cook," she accused.

"What? No, I haven't!" Barry exclaimed. He tried to sound confused and offended, but he was turning really red. 

"Yes, you have!" she fumed. 

Tears pricked her eyes. "Why though? Do you want to make sure I don't burn the loft down when you're not around to cook anymore?"

Her voice broke and she looked down, trying hard not to break again. "Is this your way of trying to prepare me for a life of dinners alone?"

Barry put down his knife and turned off the stove. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. 

"I just … I'm sorry. I just wanted to give you some pointers that I knew you would remember," he admitted guiltily. 

Iris's chin quivered. "You manipulated me."

"I'm sorry," he said again sincerely. 

"I knew you wouldn't want to learn if I told you why."

"Yeah, well you're right about that," Iris sniffed, upset. She went to the dining table to pack up her stuff.

"Iris, wait. Please. I just don't know what to do anymore," he told her desperately. "I'm just at a dead end."

Iris whipped around and glared at him for his very poor choice of words.

Barry sighed, frustrated with himself. He tried again "I'm sorry. I am. I know that this wasn't really fair to you. I just want… I _need_ to know that you'll be okay after Crisis. And part of that is making sure you eat."

Iris turned back around to the table. 

"That's not something you can control though is it?" she asked weakly, unwilling to face the look in his eyes. Unable to face the words he was saying.

She didn't want this. 

She didn't want to talk about this or think about it and she was angry this was in fact what the last few nights have been about.

Happy memories now tainted by their morbid ulterior motive. Everything in their lives touched by this death sentence.

"I don't know what else I'm supposed to do," Barry whispered tearfully. "I… I can't think of you here alone not eating, or only getting by on takeout or tv dinners for one."

Nausea flooded her stomach at the thought. But, he wasn't wrong. 

That was her future. 

That's what life would be without her husband. Without a child. 

Just her. Here alone. No one to break bread with. No one to come home to after a long day. No one with a glass of wine or a tray of brownies waiting for her.

Just solitude.

A sob ripped through her and Barry was at her side in an instant, pulling her close and profusely apologizing. 

“I'm sorry, please don't cry,” he begged. “I made a mistake.”

Iris wrestled free from him. "As much as you feel that it's not a choice to die, when you do things like this it seems like it is. It seems calculated and thought-out and it feels like a choice you're making every day.”

“I didn’t want to do this. And it’s not fair that you planned this,” she said, upset. “It's out of your hands. You've accepted what the Monitor said and you’re leaving, but please, don’t try to tie up the loose ends Crisis is leaving behind into a nice little bow.”

“Iris, that’s not-”

She swallowed nausea and just left her stuff where they were. “-I’m going to bed. You should take your time cleaning up before you come upstairs.”

Barry took the hint to give her space and he let her go.

Iris took a long hot shower before she climbed into bed completely exhausted. 

It was quiet now. 

Ms. Holiday’s voice had ceased. 

Iris heard the vague sound of a good bit of glass crashing somewhere downstairs and she was almost grateful for the sound of Barry’s anger. 

After weeks of subdued acceptance, it was refreshing to hear signs of emotion in her husband.

And then it was quiet again.

She figured it was over an hour before Barry finally trudged up the stairs and into their bedroom. He creeped by her to the bathroom and she heard him brush his teeth and change for bed.

When he slid in beside her, Iris was still clearly wide awake.

She didn't turn around and Barry didn't expect her to. 

He didn’t try to talk to her and Iris didn’t expect him to.

But, his arm slid around her waist at the exact moment she reached behind her to pull him close.

Because, regardless of if they had a choice or not, these _were_ their last days together. And they would spend every one of them side by side. 

Iris rocked back and forth in her chair at the Citizen berating herself again and again.

She felt like the biggest hypocrite. She was filled with so much anger and there was no one to be blamed for it. None of this was fair. 

Her husband was selfless and good. Everything he did, he did with her in mind. 

Barry had done nothing wrong two nights ago. 

He certainly hadn't done anything she hadn't done in the past. 

She had tried that a few times. Tried to get her affairs in order. Tried to leave instructions for Barry that she knew he would need after Savitar killed her.

After Kadabra's offer went unaccepted and Barry's trip to the future came up short, Iris had bought a label maker and went to town around the apartment, putting up little reminders and facts for her fiancé. Like the Wi-Fi password he could never remember and the best times to go to the farmer's market for the sweetest peaches. 

And, though she kept it tucked under her side of the mattress, she'd even began keeping a notebook marking down which of her things should be donated to which charities. 

She thought she'd done a good thing. 

Thought she was making the future easier for him. Until she came home from work and found all her labels torn off and ripped up and the label maker and her secret notebook dumped in the trash.

When she confronted Barry about why he'd done that, she saw that he was very, _very_ upset, but was trying hard to reel it in. 

His voice was shaking when he told her that all of that wasn't necessary. If he needed the Wi-Fi password he would just ask her. And that they'd agreed to never let him go to the farmer's market alone again after the Peony Debacle.

He didn't even acknowledge the notebook. Just demanded that she never do anything like this again. And then he left the house and only returned several hours later.

Iris never wanted to look back on those dark, dark months leading up to her supposed murder. She never wanted to revisit the fucked up headspaces she and Barry were forced into for five months. Least of all with a twisted sense of longing. But, that's where she was now.

What happened three years ago and what was happening now are two sides of the same coin, but the way they were being handled couldn't be more different. 

Back then there was fire. 

There was anger. 

There were slammed doors and passionate declarations of resistance. 

There was unwavering belief in defiance and blood oaths of protection.

No matter what loop they were thrown, Barry never lost faith that she would somehow survive. Not one single moment. Not once in five long, grueling months. 

And when Iris wavered, when she wasn't so sure herself, Barry shouldered her pain and he found faith enough for the both of them. 

But, that was then. 

Back when there were flames. Back when there was _fight_.

Now? Now it's just quiet.

Just unceasingly quiet. 

It had only taken Barry two days to lose all hope. To accept complete defeat. To accept death. 

_Two. Days._

And she was pushed to do the same. 

Well, the truth was that she didn't. She didn't accept his death. She never would.

But she couldn't fight fate. So where did that leave her?

In silence. 

That's all there was now. 

Barry's silence was submission, but hers was seething. It was storming. With no hope for an outlet. Because the hero had already accepted demise. 

The silence was deafening. It was demoralizing. And now it was made even thicker by their argument.

Iris scoffed and sat up. If she couldn’t fight the world than she would put her energy into something she _could_ control. There were victories still to be found in the everyday. And if that’s all she could have, she’d fight like hell to claim them.

Barry sighed miserably as he cleaned up and locked down his lab for the night.

As far as he knew, there were no pressing Flash duties at Star Labs so he could just go home. But, he didn't know if he should just yet. There was a chance Iris was still at work and he didn't want to hang around the quiet apartment without her there. 

And if she was home already, he was hesitant to do the awkward dance they'd been doing the last few days. 

It was a blend of having stilted conversation and clinging to each other. 

It was exhausting. And it wouldn't sustain them much longer, but he couldn't find their way out. 

Crisis was inevitable. It was coming. 

And the two of them would never agree on what needed to be done. 

No matter how much she bit her tongue, Barry knew how Iris truly felt about him accepting his destiny. That's why he knew he had to lie to try and prepare her for a small part of life without him there. 

And she had every right to feel the way she did. 

He was in her shoes not long ago. He'd never forget the feeling of that sucking hole in your chest when you're facing the death of your soulmate.

Barry rubbed his eyes roughly. He’d go home. There was no sense in avoiding Iris. No matter what storm they were facing, it would be together.

He locked the door to his lab just as his phone vibrated. He pulled it out and saw a message from Iris. 

_**Meet me at Jitters when you’re off.**_.

He was out CCPD and outside of the coffeehouse in seconds. 

It was late. Jitters was already closed for the night and there was no one inside. Which made him apprehensive. 

Why had Iris called him here? Was something wrong? Was she alright?

He phased through the doors and looked around.

It was pitch black, save for a dim light coming from the back. “Iris? Are you in here?”

Hurried steps came from the kitchen and he sighed in relief when he saw his wife come around to the front counter.

“Oh! Hey, I wasn’t expecting you so quickly. I thought you were still at work.”

“I packed up early,” he explained coming closer. “What’s up? Everything alright?”

She looked calm and in one piece. She was drying her hands on a small towel and when he got close enough he saw that she was wearing an apron.

“What are you doing?”

“Everything’s fine,” Iris assured. “I just thought these industrial grade stoves and fire system would be a safer bet than our kitchen.”

“Safer for what?” he wondered uneasily.

“I made us dinner,” she told him simply.

“You cooked? Dinner?” Barry repeated, dumbfounded. He didn’t know what he thought this meeting was about but it definitely wasn’t that.

Now that his attention was there, though, he did smell savory richness coming from the kitchens.

Iris nodded. “Yeah.”

Barry could see that she was still somewhat- not defensive, but on guard. Cautious.

He didn’t want to question if that meant she understood where he was coming from last week just in case that wasn’t the case. 

“Wow. That’s- that’s really great! I’m sure it’s great. Thank you,” he smiled softly. 

Iris gestured for him to grab a seat at the counter. “I didn’t think you’d be out of work so early, so there’s still a few minutes left until the food’s ready.”

“That’s no problem at all.”

Iris studied his face before she sighed and looked down. 

She reached over and grabbed the bottle of wine she’d chilled and poured them each a tall glass.

It was the bottle of red they’d gotten from Argentina. It tasted like heaven. And, though it wouldn’t have a huge effect on Barry, it helped ease the tension in both of their shoulders. 

“This is perfect,” Iris moaned as the hints of berry and clove slid down her throat. 

“Good choice,” Barry agreed, impressed. 

“Oh!” Iris suddenly remembered. “I almost forgot.”

She hurried to the back and returned with a large platter. “Some hors d'oeuvres. I made broiled oysters.”

Barry's brows shot up. “Did you really?”

Iris shrugged. "I think I was being spiteful making something so dramatic," she admitted. "The main course isn't nearly as fancy though."

She came around the counter with the large platter and set it down between them. 

Barry lifted the lid and saw that she had in fact made oysters. And they smelled and looked amazing. 

"This looks incredible," he complimented with wonder.

"Try one," Iris told him. 

Barry only hesitated briefly (as great as it looked, he had been on the receiving end of the adventurous side of Iris's cooking many times before) before he slid a shell off the plate and downed it.

"Holy shit, that's amazing," he exclaimed in disbelief. He looked at her excitedly. "Iris, this is amazing!"

Iris's was still a bit standoffish, but as he thanked her and tried two more oysters, her shoulders loosened and the smile on her face widened.

"Thanks," she said genuinely as she shrugged. "It was no big deal, I just followed a recipe."

By the time the oven timer went off, Iris had settled into the seat beside him and the two of them took turns polishing off the seafood. 

She spent a few minutes in the kitchen this time and when she came back she was holding a very large pot. "Okay. Full disclosure, this took a few tries but I eventually got the hang of it."

She carefully put down the sizzling pan and uncovered it dramatically. 

Barry was hit with the mouthwatering sight of chicken and shrimp Alfredo. 

Barry grinned widely. “That’s my girl.”

“And I used butter and milk cause, funnily enough, somehow a coffeehouse was completely out of cream,” she teased.

Barry chuckled heartily and Iris joined in and soon they were laughing hard at such a simple joke, letting the tension of the week melt away. 

Eventually, they gathered themselves and Barry helped Iris dish out the pasta.

She waited with bated breath as he took his first bite and smiled with relief when he told her with complete and utter seriousness that it was the best bite of food he’s ever had in his entire life.

And Barry was sure all was forgiven when she took his fork and fed him the rest of his plate, sneaking bites herself and catching up with him on her day.

By the time they took their last bites, Barry felt warm and stuffed. “That was the best meal I’ve ever had,” he said contently. “Thank you.”

“Glad you liked it,” she smiled. “I guess I can tuck that recipe away for future use.”

The mood sobered up some at the reminder of the future. Iris sighed painfully and sipped the last of her wine.

Barry gently cupped her cheek and turned her back to him. “I’m really sorry about before. You know I was just trying to help. Right?”

“I know,” Iris promised. “It’s just that this is all really hard. It’s more than it just being food, Barry.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “I know I can't cook very well. I know that. And when it was just me I really didn’t care too much to learn. But, I’ve always liked trying. For you.”

He knew that was true. Iris always cooked for them at Joe’s more out of a sense of duty to pull her weight and ease the stress on her working, single father.

She never cooked for Eddie. Never once felt the desire to. She dated him for over a year. She'd lived with him for five months. But, she only ever tried to cook for him once. He'd gotten run down with the flu and after a few days she thought maybe she ought to make him chicken noodle soup. She got as far as almost slicing her thumb clean off chopping up some carrots before she threw everything out and grabbed a takeout menu. 

But, after she and Barry started dating and then especially after they got married, Iris loved cooking all sorts of meals for him. They never ended well, but Barry was an expert at making Iris think otherwise.

Barry Allen was the only man who could ever make Iris West _want_ to spend hours huddled over a hot stove or a skillet and read over complex recipes until her eyes crossed.

“After all we’ve been through. After this life we’ve only just started together, it’s just supposed to go back to it just being me at the table?” Iris cried. “I’m just supposed to do normal, mundane things like this as if half of me isn’t gone? You’ll be gone, Barry. Who cares if the I’m living off pork rinds and gum. What the hell difference does it make?”

Barry wiped her tears before wiping his own. “You have to care, Iris. Because if you don’t it will be that much easier to lose the purpose in everything. Food will seem pointless, but then so will washing your face and pretty soon getting out of bed will be too much of a hassle. And who needs to go into work when you’re the boss? I know, I know _exactly_ what my life would’ve been like if you weren’t there after I lost my parents. I saw what my life was like in the future after Savitar. That can’t be your life.” 

He shook his head and put his hand right over her heart. “Everything I have. _Everything_ I love is right here. The choice to keep this beating is mine. But, I won’t be here to protect it anymore. To take care of it. That’s only your choice. It’s a choice you have to make. And choosing to keep going in spite of all the pain that’s coming will be the hardest decision you’ll make. It will hurt like hell, but you have to do it. And if something as tiny as making yourself a plate of food after a harsh day is what keeps you going so you don’t collapse or shut down, then you have to do that too. You will have to take care of yourself even when it’s the last thing you’ll want to do. Especially then. I just wanted to try to find a way to help you do that.”

Iris closed her eyes, tears fell harder. 

She was wrong. She was wrong before. Barry’s acceptance was full of fight. 

Her husband was still full of fire.

Iris nodded. “I will. I’ll try to take care of myself. And I’ll try to stay on top of my meals. I promise.”

Iris felt the desperation ease from his grip. Felt the tension melt away in his exhale. 

“Three times a day?” he asked when they separated. He hoped for a positive answer, but had no expectations.

After all this time neither of them had any illusions about the cost of grief. She knew the reality of what she could offer him.

“Once per day is going to be pretty lucky I think,” Iris told him, smiling sadly.

Barry swallowed despair at that. It was the truth. Still he tried to bargain up. “Two times.”

Iris sighed. 

“One full meal and a snack,” he amended.

“One full meal and a snack,” she compromised.

He kissed her then, sealing the accord in love.

“I love you,” he said softly when they pulled away.

“I love you,” Iris responded.

She rested her head on his shoulder and Barry wrapped his arms around her tight pulling her as close to him as their bodies would allow. 

The feel of her heart beating against his side lulled him. It was always the thing that would keep him breathing.

Several minutes later, something caught his eye on one of the counters. “Did you make those?”

He pointed to a pile of cookies sitting high on an ornate glass plate. They didn’t look like anything Jitters sold.

“Oh wow, yeah. I forgot about dessert,” Iris chuckled.

Barry sped over and grabbed them, sliding back into his seat before Iris could notice. “Let’s try some then.”

“Ooh, baby I would _not_ eat those cookies if I were you,” Iris warned seriously. “I don't think they turned out right.”

Barry waved off her doubts. "All of this was perfect. I'm sure they're fine."

He smelled the cookie then took a big bite to show her he wasn’t worried. But, as soon as the dessert touched his tongue, he regretted it. 

His eyes reflexively bulged and he stopped chewing for a second before his sense kicked in and he made his usual sounds of content. "Mmm see?! Delicious!"

The cookies were burnt to a crisp on the underside, but somehow chewy in the middle. And he was certain Iris had mixed up her salt and sugar again, but he powered through and finished the whole thing.

He subtly tried to gasp for breath to clear the taste of ash from the back of his throat. He knew reaching for a drink would give him away so he smiled down at her instead and smacked his lips.

“Wow, gr-great stuff,” he prayed his eye didn’t twitched from the bitterness. 

Fortunately it didn’t.

Unfortunately, Iris looked so pleased with his enjoyment that she offered him three more cookies, picking out the biggest ones she could find.

Barry ate them each with a smile, washing down the rancid taste with the joy on his wife’s face. 

“Maybe I can do the cooking for the rest of the week,” Iris suggested as they walked home a few hours later. 

Before dessert, from the delicious meal she’d prepared he would’ve readily agreed. This was what he had wanted in the first place. 

But, the thought of those god-awful cookies made his stomach roll. Depending on what she decided to cook, he might very well not even make it to Crisis.

Still, he thought as he squeezed her hand and took in her eager smile, if that was how he went- at home eating his warm meal across from this woman who he loved more than life itself- it would be the greatest honor.

He grinned and nodded his head in agreement at the offer. 

“That would be wonderful,” he said sincerely.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has any season 6 prompts or topics they want explored, let me knoww


End file.
